


often i am upset

by wednesdayevening



Series: take a look in that mirror, now tell me who's the fairest [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Bullying, Coming Out, Found Family, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Transphobia, no beta we die like men, tommys vlog gun, trans author, tubbo is the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdayevening/pseuds/wednesdayevening
Summary: "Oops," Tommy whispers, glancing at the trans pride flag behind his gaming setup. "That wasn't very cishet of me, was it?"or, five times tommy almost accidentally comes out to someone and the one time he actually does.
Relationships: Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: take a look in that mirror, now tell me who's the fairest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069958
Comments: 98
Kudos: 2752





	often i am upset

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is a continuation from my previous fic, cannot tell a single soul (i can't). they're both set in the same universe.

**1.**

Outside of streams, Twitter, and their Discord server, Tommy doesn’t talk to the SMP squad all that much. They’re still all friends - it’s just everyone has their own separate lives, friend groups and families, and outside their busy schedules there simply isn’t much time to chat. 

So Tommy really enjoys these kinds of calls. It’d started with just him and Tubbo working through a shitty English assignment. Wilbur had joined, and then coerced Technoblade to join, because “ _ he’s the fancy college man with the English degree, not me _ ,” and then Nikki had joined after her stream. Everyone else had kind of rolled in later - Fundy, Dream, Phil, Eret - anyone that wasn’t busy. 

“How do you spell finalised?” Tubbo is saying, voice tinny. “Is it with an ‘s’, or a ‘z’?” 

“A ‘Z’,” Dream answers. “Wait. You’re British, right? Is it an ‘S’, then?”

“It’s an ‘S’, Tubbo,” Technoblade confirms. Tommy can hear his facepalm. Nikki laughs, and then the call falls silent again, sans Wilbur’s absent-minded guitar playing. It’s nice to have them all in the background. 

Tommy gets about two more lines of this fucking paragraph in - who gives a flying  _ fuck _ about the Industrial Revolution anyway - before someone speaks up again. 

“Is my character in the SMP canonically trans?”

Tommy looks up automatically at Fundy’s words, even if he can’t see him. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Eret answers. “Why?”

“I just saw this big long post on it,” Fundy says. “I’m just - like, should I be playing a trans character? I’m not trans. I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“I mean, it’s not really you,” Tommy interjects before Eret can reply. “It’s a persona - or fursona in your case, ha - but yeah. It’s just rep - representation. Which is what people love to see, so. I don’t think you’re offending anyone.”

The call is silent for a moment, and Tommy’s word vomit catches up with him. Was he too obvious? Did he say something a cis person wouldn’t say? Did he - 

“Well said, Tommy,” Eret says, smile obvious in his voice. “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry, Fundy. It does a lot for the community. And hey, there are a lot more angsty fanfictions, so.”

“Oh, my god, the fanfictions,” Dream wheezes. “I read this one the other day - “

The call fills with laughter, and Tommy relaxes, relieved. 

* * *

**2.**

“Ha!” Technoblade crows as Tommy’s character disappears into the void and disappears into spectator mode. “Nobody can best Technoblade.” 

“What fuck kind of name is Technoblade?” Tommy grumbles. He’s been trying to beat Techno at SkyWars for one of his videos because Skeppy was busy or something, and he’s doing quite poorly. Wilbur’s editing or something but he’s in the voice call with them and flatly refuses to stop making fun at his ability in the game, or lack thereof. Playing on his own is fine, but against Technoblade is another story. He survives to the last two people fine, but Technoblade seems to be able to kill him in like, one hit. “It’s so weird. Technoblade. It’s like you pulled it out of a fuckin’ cereal box, or something.”

“Technoblade is a much better name than Tommy. My name radiates coolness. It  _ oozes  _ with awesomeness.” Techno finishes his victory lap and his screen pauses as they’re teleported to another waiting lobby.

“Tommy’s got a point, Blade,” Wilbur comments. “Your name’s a  _ bit  _ weird, but it is cooler than Tommy.” 

Tommy’s character drops from the glass cage onto the SkyWars map. He scrambles to collect the items from the two chests and starts bridging across to mid. “Hey! I’m a fuckin’ minor, you can’t bully me! Plus, Tommy is a great name. I picked it myself.”

There’s a crashing sound and then a wheeze from Wilbur’s end of the call. Tommy doesn’t realise what he’s said until Techno’s confused “What?” comes through, and he almost chokes. 

“Uh, I mean my gamertag,” He lies, stumbling over the words thick in his mouth. “TommyInnit. Y’know.” 

“Right,” Techno says. Tommy can hear the skepticism in his voice, but he drops the topic in favour of bragging. “Ha! Suck on that, Tommy. If you wish to defeat me, train for another ten thousand years.” 

He groans. He texts Techno later and asks him to cut that part out of the video. When the video goes up a few days later, it’s without that couple of seconds. Tommy makes sure to leave a comment. 

* * *

**3.**

Thirty minutes after the donation, and Tommy’s still fuming. 

He’d ended his stream barely ten minutes ago when Fundy and Dream had logged off, but was yet to log out of the SMP or leave VC2, where Eret was asking his opinion on additions to their museum. 

“I’m probably gonna add a family tree eventually, but I was thinking, like, an imitation L’Mantree. I’ll do a poll when I stream again next. What do you think?” 

“Um,” Tommy says absent-mindedly. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to stifle the anger brewing below his skin. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

Eret is quiet for a moment. Tommy wonders briefly if he’s upset them - Eret’s a nice person, and like, one of two out queer people on the server. Tommy quite likes their friendship. 

“Are you alright?” Eret asks before Tommy can apologise. “You seem a bit off, dude.” 

“I’m fine. Just thinking about women,” Tommy says automatically. He breathes. Drops the facade. “Sorry. I’m - that dono just pissed me off a little bit.” 

Eret makes a surprised noise. Tommy can’t hear their keyboard clacking anymore. “You - the dono? The - the hate speech one?”

The dono had come through on Tommy’s stream, some piece of shit donating six dollars and ninety cents to call Eret slurs. Tommy had fumbled to mute himself before denouncing the person. “To that donator,” He’d said, angry, as his mods banned the user, “you are an absolute dickwad of a person. And to anyone else who believes that kind of homophobic and - and transphobic bullshit. If you think it’s okay to say that kind of shit, unfollow - unsub - fucking  _ leave _ .” Eret had clapped at that, and Tommy had realised far too late that his attempt to mute himself hadn’t worked. 

Now, Tommy nods. In his anger, he doesn’t realise Eret can’t see him. “It’s just. I can’t believe people like that exist sometimes.” 

He knows they do, of course. Those people are everywhere - both outspoken and quiet. There’s Sam and the kids at school. There’s his Aunt, the people on TV and on the Internet. There’s the stares that follow him around sometimes, the confused double takes, the sneering at pride events and nonchalantly uttered derogatory words. He’s used to it - this shit happens daily - but for some reason he’s always surprised when it happens. 

“Yeah,” Eret says. “We’ve come a long way, but there’s still a long while to go. You deal with it, though.” They pause. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

A couple of seconds pass, almost as if Eret is trying to figure out what and how to say something. “Thanks for being so supportive,” They say eventually, “Most people would brush over it. Hardly anyone would denounce that kind of behaviour on stream and then continue to think about it, like you did.”

Instead of feeling honoured like he should after a compliment like that, Tommy only feels dread.  _ Oops,  _ he thinks, glancing at the trans pride flag on the wall behind his setup.  _ That wasn’t very cishet of me, was it?  _

“Thanks, dude,” Tommy says anyway. He closes his eyes and claps his hands together, holding them out in front of him. He’s not religious in the slightest, but he could really use some help.  _ Please, God, or whoever fucking else there is, make Eret drop the subject.  _

When they speak again, their voice is impossibly soft. Comforting.  _ Do they know?  _ “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything. You don’t have to, but I hardly ever sleep, so my DMs are always open.” 

Tommy does the sign of the cross and bows his head.  _ Fuck. The Sun, the Father, and the holy fucking Prime Church, please.  _ “Jesus, dude. Y’know, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure sleep is vital for human beings.”

Eret laughs. “Are you sure I’m human?” 

Tommy cackles. He leans back in his gaming chair and presses a hand to his forehead and salutes the sky in thanks.  _ Fucking hell,  _ he thinks.  _ I really need to get better at being stealth.  _

* * *

**4.**

It’s been a pretty awesome day, if Tommy does say so himself. The meet-up with Phil, Techno and Wilbur had been planned for a couple of months. Philza fucking Minecraft had picked him up from his own home - what an insane sentence - and then they’d met Wilbur and Technoblade at Brighton Arcade, which was steadily becoming a traditional meeting place. Tommy had spent far too much money on stupid paper tickets in an effort to get another vlog gun. He’d been successful, and was now playfully aiming it at Wilbur’s lanky form as they walked in pursuit of lunch. 

“Wiiiiiiilbur,” Tommy yells. “Watch out! I’ve got a fucking gun, bitch!” 

Techno rolls his eyes. “I’m this close to shoving that vlog gun right up your - “ 

“Oi!”

It’s not unlike any of them to be stopped by a fan - numerous people had already approached Wilbur and Phil today shyly, camera in hand. Technoblade doesn’t get it often as his face isn’t plastered all over the internet, but Tommy’s been recognised a fair bit since he blew up, and he knows Tubbo does too. Fans yelling at them, though? That’s kind of new. 

Tommy turns around with the rest of the group at the noise. He pales. Rounding the corner are a couple of kids Tommy recognises from school - one of which is Sam. 

“Hey!” He hears Sam’s voice echo across the street. “Eleanor!” 

Tommy’s breath hitches. He takes a step back automatically. His friends freeze by his side. 

“Can we go?” He whispers, heart thumping. He hates how small his voice sounds. He can only guess how scared he looks and calls upon the one term of Drama he took in elementary school to assist him. He can picture his teacher shaking her head - his acting skills were always abysmal off stream and right now he guesses it shows. Phil looks incredibly concerned. Techno’s expression is murderous. 

“Tommy, who are those boys?” Phil asks, eyebrows knitted together. 

Tommy wrings his trembling hands. Sam and - whoever the fuck else that is - are crossing the street. “Please. Can we go?”

From behind Techno and Phil, Wilbur shoots him a confused look, and then mouths the word ‘Sam’. When Tommy nods, Wilbur grabs Techno’s sleeve and starts moving. 

“We can talk about this later,” He says. “Tommy’s clearly uncomfortable, let’s just leave.”

They do - they power walk two streets up and into a Greggs. Once they’re inside, Wilbur pulls him into a hug, hand ruffling his hair. “Hey, Toms,” Wilbur whispers. The hand that isn’t combing through his hair moves rhythmically down his back. He breathes in and out to it. “Hey. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” 

“Wil,” He hears Technoblade whisper. “What the fuck was that? Do I need to go obliterate some fuckin’ orphans, or something?”   


Wil’s hand stops. He pulls Tommy in tighter. “Please do.” 

Tommy can feel Phil’s worried gaze on the burning the back of his neck. “Tommy, who’s Eleanor?”

He flinches at the use of his deadname and prays Wilbur’s hold obscures the movement from his oblivious friends.  _ How the fuck am I to meant lie my way out of this one? _

“Toms,” Wilbur whispers in his ear. “Do you want to tell them?”

He shakes his head slightly and feels a pang of guilt. He should tell Techno and Phil - they’re like family, but he’s already trembling and weak and stupid and vulnerable and he doesn’t want their image of him to be further tainted. Wilbur straightens up and Tommy catches Phil’s eye. The corners of his mouth turn up in a pitying smile. 

“It’s just a stupid joke at Tommy’s school,” He hears Wilbur fib. “Something about Alvin and the Chipmunks and a couple of kids took it too far.”

It’s a scarily good lie. He’s not entirely sure if his friends will believe it, but it’s good enough for now. Tommy glances up at his brother and tries to telepathically send his love. 

Technoblade coughs. “Can I still murder them?” 

Tommy smiles weakly. “Only if you use my vlog gun, bitch.” 

Phil laughs, because Philza Minecraft laughs at everything, but then Wilbur’s laughing and Techno is wheezing and even though he’s still shaken up Tommy is hit with a rush of love for his pseudo-family, and he can’t help but giggle in spite of the situation too. 

* * *

**5.**

It’s MCC day, and Tommy’s running on three cans of Red Bull and pure excitement. It’s been a long day already - he had two tests, one period after the other, and then missed his bus and had to walk home, only to have his Dad ask him to walk to the shops and pick up some groceries as soon as he got to his house. He’s been doing homework for the past couple of hours and he’s absolutely  _ knackered _ , but MCC is about to start and he’s on a team with Dream, Tubbo and Nikki. The excitement of knowing the biggest Minecraft YouTuber still hasn’t worn off. Tommy is  _ shaking  _ with adrenaline. 

“‘Ello boys,” Tommy greets as Dream and Tubbo join the VC. He’s been streaming for a hot minute and he’s already got 98 thousand viewers - a number he averages and surpasses almost every stream but is still amazed by. “Are we ready to fucking win?”

“We’ve got Mr. Green Man,” Tubbo says. “Winning isn’t even a question.”

Dream wheezes. Tommy moves his character to explore the MCC lobby. He plugs his channel and banters with Tubbo until the bridge lowers. “Okay, lads! Let’s do this.”

They’re coming fourth until Big Sales at Build Mart, which Niki seems to have developed a perchance for seemingly overnight. They move up to second, and then first after an amazing game of Skyblockle. 

“Tommy, you did really well,” Nikki says. “Seven kills? That’s really good.”

“Ah, you know what the women call me,” Tommy laughs. “Tommy - Tommy the - the murderer.”

His headphones are filled with only giggles for a second. “That was horrible,” Tubbo cries. Tommy can picture him wheezing, doubling over on himself and gasping for air and he snickers. 

His character is teleported to the Dodgebolt lobby. They’re dueling the Red Rabbits - Wilbur, TapL, Quackity and Sapnap. They win the first round, but lose the second. The third round loads. 

“Strategy, big man?” Tubbo asks. 

“Run like you’re on drugs,” Tommy answers for Dream, moving his character to spin and race across the map like crazy. 

Dream picks up the arrow and shoots TapL. “What he said.” 

Tommy screeches as the opposing team’s arrow hits him. His character explodes in a fiery ball of yellow and is teleported back into the crowds, where he watches his remaining teammates battle Wilbur and Sapnap. 

“Tommy, what was that noise?” Dream wheezes. His arrow hits Sapnap and he disappears. “You - you sounded like a girl.”

He dissolves into a fit of laughter so violent Tommy’s surprised it doesn’t cost them the duel. Nikki dies. Dream fires the final shot. They win. Fireworks explode above the arena. His skin’s face is plastered on a leaderboard alongside the rest of his team. Everyone is screaming. Tommy is quiet. 

“We won, we won,” Tubbo is yelling, punching the air. Tommy can hear his mouse clicking over TeamSpeak. He looks up, and into the eyes of the camera. 

_ Oh shit _ , he thinks. Chat flies by, concerned. He mutes and deafens himself for a second. “Wow, chat, I just zoned out in pure shock. Can we get some pogchamps? Some prime subs for the winning team?” 

Chat seems satisfied with that, so he rejoins the call. “Tommy!” Wilbur has joined the call - everyone in the event’s in VC2. “You came third overall!”

“ _ What?! _ ” He screams, moves his character in the lobby to the podium, and yelps. “Holy fucking shit! Holy  _ fucking _ shit! I’m a god! A god amongst men - boys, boys, can I get a pogchamp?”

“There it is again!” Dream says. Tommy notes absently he sounds like a tea kettle. “The noise. Tommmyyyy. Have you kidnapped a woman?”

His skin prickles. Like a wave retreating back into the ocean, his excitement ebbs away. He’s left sitting open-mouthed at his desk, happiness gone and replaced with a horrible itching feeling: dysphoria. Dream can tell. Dream can tell.  _ You’re not passing. A year and a half on T and you still sound like a girl. You’re not passing _ . 

“Tommy?” Someone says. “Are you okay?” Then, quieter: “Dream, did you say something? I think he’s upset.”

Dream sounds confused. “Why would he get upset over - over me likening him to a girl?” 

Tommy jerks back to Earth at the last comment.  _ Fuck fuck fuck fuck.  _ “I’m good - I’m all good, big man - just surprised. I can’t believe we won!” 

Dream’s cackle tells him that his friends bought it, that he’s off the hook. Chat seems to be less convinced, too.  _ Thank fuck.  _ He shakes his head for the camera, pretending to be amused, and mutes and deafens himself while he stutters through an awkward sign off. 

“Alright, boys, thanks for watching. I’ll be streaming tomorrow night - oh, it’s an S.B.I stream, so make sure to pop in, lads.”

He ends the stream and leaves the voice call. Normally he’d stay and celebrate, annoy Wilbur and piss off Techno, but right now all he wants to do is  _ leave _ . It’s stupid that he’s this worked up about a dumbass, offhand comment not meant to upset him. Tommy swallows a sob and ignores the way his ribs pinch painfully at the movement of his shoulders shaking - he’s been binding in his tightest binder for a lot more than eight hours now, but there’s no way in hell he’s taking it off. He shuts off his computer and stumbles out of his chair. His beloved, ratty hoodie is on the back of his desk chair. He pulls it on and dives face-down into his pillows.

* * *

**+1**

Tubbo stretches in his frame in their FaceTime call, arms reaching up over his head. They’ve been chatting for about half an hour, give or take - Tubbo called him late that evening, hours after MCC and Tommy’s breakdown, and even though all he had wanted to do was sleep he’d accepted the call. Talking with Tubbo always made him feel better. 

“Did Dream upset you today?”

“What?” Tommy’s head jerks from where it’s resting in his palm. In a spectacular display of gracefulness, his head falls down to smack his keyboard. Tubbo laughs a full-belly laugh, snorts and all. 

“Man,” He wheezes. “I wish we were streaming so someone could’ve clipped that.”

“I fucking don’t,” Tommy says. He means the words to come out sharp, but Tubbo’s laugh is infectious and they sound light-hearted instead. His hand comes up to rub his sore forehead. 

“Did Dream upset you today?” Tubbo repeats once they’ve died down. “You left the voice call pretty quick. And you seemed a bit uncomfortable on stream.”

Tommy quietens immediately. “Dream didn’t mean to.”

“I know that.” Tommy watches Tubbo stabilise his phone on something, then lean back on his bed covers so he remains in frame. “I just - he made you uncomfortable, and I wanted to check up on you.”

Tommy’s heart warms. Toby is too kind. “I’m fine. S’not like it hasn’t happened before.” 

Tubbo cocks his head thoughtfully. He nods slowly. Through his pixelated screen, Tommy can see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He waits for his own brain to catch up, for his heart rate to quicken and anxiety to spike under his palms. He’s pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t.

“I can see you thinking, Big T,” Tommy jests. 

Tubbo cracks a smile. “I think I understand? But I’m not gonna say anything, because that’s your thing. You do it when you’re ready. If you’re not, that’s cool. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Tommy blinks. A wave of pure, unfiltered affection for his best friend hits him like a truck. Tubbo is so sincere, so kind.  _ The world doesn’t deserve him _ , he thinks. 

“Shit, did I get that right? Sorry, I really don’t wanna offend - “

“Tubbo - Toby,” He laughs. “You’re not offending me. I, er. That was one of the - that was really nice. What you said.”

Tommy’s shit at emotions, and he knows it. Tubbo does too, because all he does is sit silently - not a judging silence, but a welcoming one - and waits for him to get the words out. Tommy couldn’t be more thankful. 

“Dream - er. I got upset ‘cos I’m trans,” He says. It’s weird; even after all these years the words I’m trans still taste funny in his mouth. His heart rate still picks up, as if he’s eleven again and standing in the living room, shaking like a leaf and trying to spit out those seven letters. “It makes me a bit pissed.”

Tubbo sends him a proud smile. Tommy’s heart bursts. “Dysphoria?” 

“How do you know what that is?”

Toby giggles. “I watched this stream highlight where Eret talked about it, and I wanted to be a good friend so I googled it. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. If it were a person, I’d take it’s kneecaps out.”

“Jesus,” Tommy whispers.  _ You’re my best friend,  _ he wants to say.  _ How are you so good?  _

“I love you,” He blurts instead, and surprises himself. He watches his grainy delayed reaction in the corner reel back in shock at his own words. 

“I love you too, man,” Toby grins. “Thanks for telling me, Toms.”

“Thanks for - thanks for everything, Tubbo.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! if you enjoyed, please leave kudos and comments :) also dont be like tommy in this fic and bind safely! thanks for reading


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